


Haunts

by IbelieveinMarkNutt



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, Death isn't permanent, F/M, Hoarding, M/M, Racist Slurs, Ray can see ghosts and everyone thinks he's crazy, ghost au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-02-13 21:32:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2165919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IbelieveinMarkNutt/pseuds/IbelieveinMarkNutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray knew people talked behind his back, and honestly he would too if he was in their shoes. He was just some nerdy latino kid who was often labelled as a schizophrenic by both teachers and students alike, and it wasn’t like his mother’s predicament helped settle the rumours.<br/>Yeah, Ray understood why people avoided him.<br/><br/>But what students and teachers didn't know was that the voices he talked to, they weren't voices at all, they were people, people that just needed a little help letting go on life so they could finally be at peace.<br/>Not that Ray had much fucking clue how to do that, but he could try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Marisol Rivera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: I dipped out of the Achievement Hunter fandom a few years ago, their videos no longer interest me, however this story I want to tell still holds a lot of it.  
> The characters in this story will be vague representations of what the AH guys and gals were like a number of years ago, they are the starting point of fictional characters that will hold their names and looks.  
> Despite this, I hope you can still enjoy the concept and the storyline. (:

The Ray Narvaez Jr of this story was born September 15th, 1999 at 7:29 AM to one Marisol Narvaez, a 28-year-old nurse who had moved to the Texas from her poverty-stricken home in Puerto Rico during her late teens to be with a married man she had fallen in love with, (and fallen with his child), during his travels to her State. His name was Hugh Dixon, and once the papers of his divorce were finalised for his separation from his second wife, she travelled across America to move into the man’s large, gated home.

Mari had never stayed at somewhere so impressive in her life, nor with such an impressive man; the tiles in his bathrooms were heated, the kitchen had a hot water dispenser, two maids dropped in weekly to do all her shopping and cleaning and she had so much leisure time she no longer knew what to do with herself. She spent her time eating ice-cream straight from the tube, watching ridiculous TV reality shows Americans couldn’t get enough of and helping the elderly, French gardener, Pierre, tend to the flowers of Hugh’s spacious garden, watching her stomach swell fondly.

Six months passed and soon Marisol found herself giving birth to her first child, Bruno Dixon, Hugh by her side with his bleached smile and wrinkled brow. Eighteen years old and Mari had never felt so happy in her whole life, she was adored, surrounded by luxury she had dreamed of since she was a little girl and a child in her arms who she loved already with all her heart. As tears of happiness stained her face in the private hospital room Hugh had insisted on, Mari wished her mother was there to share in her joy and not locked away in a Puerto Rican insane asylum where she would sit with her sickness until death.

On the eve of her nineteenth birthday Marisol Rivera became Marisol Dixon and she became accustomed to the roles Hugh gifted her: mother and wife.

Two deliriously happy years passed before the novelty Marisol and their son held for Hugh began to wear thin, looking for the next young, pretty thing to fill his time with. As his enamour for Mari fell away, so did the old man’s patience, once soft words becoming cold and dismissive, interest fading into irritation at every word that left Mari’s mouth, love-making, if it could even be called that, rough and one-sided, his wife’s face pushed down into the pillow so he didn’t have to kiss her mouth.

By the time she was twenty-three Marisol was miserable and alone, her only company that of her five-year-old son. She tried to make friends with the maids, but whenever a connection was made that Hugh was aware of he would switch companies, she smiled at other mothers she would meet at the local playground but they would sneer at her heavy accent and the colour of her skin. The day before her twenty-fourth birthday, Pierre, who had been a good friend to her in her growing loneliness, retired to be with his grandchildren.

The heating in Hugh’s bathrooms felt like fire beneath her feet, her appetite for strawberry flavoured ice-cream diminished, not even the most beautiful of flowers in bloom offering her respite. She found herself unable to throw away clothes and toys even as Bruno grew out of them, possessions the only reminder she had left of a happier time.

“Mari, this is the new gardener that will be replacing Pierre. Ray, meet my wife, Marisol.”

Ray changed everything. He was nothing like her husband, handsome in both appearance and soul, where Hugh’s face was clean-shaved and hard, Ray’s scratchy beard framed a soft expression, eyes warm and brown like melting chocolate, helping her forget the Antarctic of Hugh’s. When Ray told her she was beautiful, his mouth curved up around the edges, slicing the thorns from the red bloom of a rose to tuck it behind her ear. Suddenly, she wasn’t feeling so lonely anymore.

He taught her she did not need to rely on anyone for anything, nurturing a self-confidence she never knew was in herself before. They would meet in the middle of the night in the rose garden where they made love under the stars, never had a man’s mouth ever made her feel so good. She was in love, but this time was different, this time it was a pure love, one for the man in front of her, not for his belongings.

Bruno was eight years old when Hugh demanded divorce, Marisol signing papers thrust in front of her under the feign of depression as her ex-husband moved onto his newest interest, a young blonde thing working as his personal assistant. Mari packed their things and ran away with Ray to New York where they started a fresh new life, Ray working the nine to five in a little gardening centre, Mari putting herself through nurse training. They buy a cat and call her ‘Gato’, after her love for cake.

At the age of twenty-six, Marisol Dixon, at a smaller, snugger venue, became Marisol Narvaez, and became accustomed to the roles she gave herself: nurse, mother and Ray’s best friend.

Marisol may not have had luxury, but she had happiness, and that was all she ever wanted.

Mari became pregnant with her second child in the fall, the father of the child would never see his son’s birth however, killed in a traffic accident by a drunk driver who went through a red light. She cannot bring herself to throw away Ray’s things and names her unborn child after him to try and stop the aching in her chest. When Ray Junior is born she tells herself things are better, but it’s an illusion.

Ray is five when she starts to forget things. The area they moved into turns rough and Bruno is drawn into the allure of gangs, Mari tries to stop him, begs her ex-husband for money to get them out, but it is to no avail.

Gato is killed by a neighbourhood dog, Marisol buries the cat in their backyard and consoles her youngest son, but cannot bear to throw out any of the pet’s things.

There is a shooting downtown, three dead, her first born baby is one of the bodies found. Mari cries and hugs Bruno’s old baby grows to her chest; the only thing stopping her from killing herself is Ray.

Ray has many imaginary friends, but the child is becoming older and the conversations he has with them are becoming frightening. Sometimes Mari finds her son crying in the night, claiming people are talking to him, telling her things that make her skin crawl. She worries herself into nausea that he has her mother’s sickness.

She begins to forget what she needs to buy whilst shopping, she begins to forget to pick Ray up from school, she begins to forget Ray’s frightening behaviour, she begins to forget there’s no longer a cat for her to be buying cat food for. One day she is found wandering downtown, unsure of how to get home, asking for her child.

“Have you seen my son, Bruno? Where is my baby?”

Marisol is diagnosed with early-onset dementia. She is forty-one.


	2. Give the kid a break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isn't Joel Heyman dreamy?

“How can you _like_ Scott Pilgrim? He’s a complete toss pot.”

“Hey, he has some likeable characteristics.”

“Yeah? Like what? Being emotionally abusive? Cheating on Knives _and_ Ramona? Completely disregarding Kim’s feelings, who, in my opinion, can do better?”

“Gavin, I’m trying to watch this.”

Gavin groaned in reply and rolled his head back onto the edge of Ray’s mattress, sat on the floor. He was silent for a whole ten seconds, an impressive feat for Gavin Free.

“You know who else can do a whole lot better?”

Ray sighed and rubbed a hand under his glasses, distracted again from Scott’s fight with Todd Ingram, evil ex number three. “Who, Gavin?”

“Stephen-fucking-Stills. Everyone acts like him leaving Julie for Joseph was such a good thing, but Joseph was just as much of an asshole to him as Julie was!”

Ray already knew Gavin’s stance on the Scott Pilgrim universe, he pretty much knew everything about the boy, that tended to happen after spending nine years with someone.

“You know what? I’m going to bed.”

“Ray, no.” Gavin whined, turning so he was on his knees, leaning his elbows on the side Ray’s bed. He played his best puppy eyes, “It’s only three.”

“I think three in the morning is an acceptable time to go to bed, dude.” Ray fumbled around for his remote on his bedside table, “Plus I have school tomorrow.”

Gavin grumbled. “What am I supposed to do all night? I’m the only one here.”

“Go haunt a teapot or something, I don’t care.”

“…That wasn’t even funny.” Gavin deadpanned.

Ray snickered softly and switched his television onto standby, laying down in his bed and pulling the covers up over his head. “Night.” He muffled.

“Goodnight.”

-

It was seven AM when the time the teenage came to life (metaphorically) again to the ear-ringing beep of his alarm clock, something Ray was not too pleased about, but was a reality he’d come to accept at this point. He pulled himself up from underneath unmade covers, his hand fumbling around on his side table for the top of his alarm. Bitten fingers felt for the groove of the device’s snooze button and Ray pressed it down with a gentle click.

He retracted the hand to give himself another five minutes of warmth when it knocked against his half-finished can of redbull from last night’s late night gaming and movies, knocking its contents onto his bedroom floor.

“Fuck.” Ray threw back the covers and scrambled to pick up the flimsy can before it made too much of a spillage, hastily setting it back on top of his dresser, the colours of the can blurred due to his lack of vision. Ray guessed this was the world’s way of telling him to get up.

Ray found his glasses and turned off the alarm so it wouldn’t sound again, stretching his arms up above his head and starting a yawn that finished off with an unattractive grunt. School. He flopped backwards into the mess of covers that was his bed, debating calling in sick so he could spend the day grinding for achievements instead of the misery of the American education system.

“Mornin’, X-Ray.” Gavin piped up from Ray’s dresser, legs swinging cheerily.

Ray fixed the skewer of his glasses, staying in his position. He looked over his head board and gave a tired smile back. “Morning, Vav.”

“You have any cool dreams?” He asked, eyes shining bright with excitement at the prospect.

Ray shook his head. “Not today, dude. None that I can remember anyway.”

Gavin’s shoulders slumped. “What about boring dreams?”

“Nope.”

“Average dreams?”

“Gavin. I can’t remember, okay?”

Gavin pouted, legs stopping mid-swing. “I feel sick.” He claimed.

“Surprising.” Ray drawled sarcastically, which elicited a small twist of a smirk from Gavin.

“Wise arse.” Gavin said. He sighed in discomfort as his arms went around his stomach in an attempt to ease the burning, retching a couple of times as the fire flew upwards from his gut to his throat. Ray used to look away in disgust over the scene, covering his face with the nearest thing to hand, usually his pillow, but after having viewed it so many times, it barely affected him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, is the rest of my eternity really going to be watching this kid trying to throw up over and over?” Geoff spoke up from the other side of the room in annoyance, “It’s grossing me out.”

“Shut the fuck up, Geoff.” Gavin blurted out defensively, wiping the corner of his mouth, smearing the blood there pointlessly, “I’ve been here longer than you have. And the last time I checked you can’t bloody talk-”

“Gavin’s puke sesses are the highlight of your death and you know it.” Ray interrupted, turning his head to flash Geoff a cocky grin.

Geoff narrowed his eyes, but there was an amusement in his face. He was slumped against his bedroom wall, his pale, sweaty face complementing the off-colour, chipped décor. He scratched roughly at the inside of his arm, the area inflamed and scabbed, pus oozing from wounds in different states of sepsis. It was enough to make a self-respecting person cringe, but like Gavin’s constant state of sickness, it was a habit Ray was now used to.

Gavin’s mouth opened and closed for several moments before he squawked, “You’re- you’re an asshole!”

“Yeah, and you’re a whiney little shit.”

“I wish you’d just piss off and never come back!” Gavin jumped down from the draws, stomping a foot childishly.

“Make me, kid.” Geoff continued to scratch at his arm in agitation, eyes flitting around the small room.

“Geoffrey. Gavin. Let’s not do this at seven in the morning.”

The two looked to Ray, Gavin beginning to babble something about it not being fair and Geoff grumbling a few words of discontent.

Ray rolled his eyes and pulled a pillow over his head, groaning into it before throwing back his covers and crawling out of bed, bare soles moving onto old flooring with a gentle thud.

The sight of his bedroom was familiar, grotty walls and a damp ridden ceiling, the black spores having more recently began to infect his curtains. The cramped space mainly housed his bed, but there was also his thrift store side table, wardrobe and a chest of draws that he’d wedged at the end of his bed, mostly there for holding his TV than having any kind of use as storage, only the first two draws accessible.

And then there was the love of his life, his Xbox 360, the console the only real escape from the reality Ray had. He noticed the rings around the power button had gone out, the electricity must have run out during the night.

Ray switched the light switch on and off, it confirming his suspicions when nothing happened. He sighed and pushed open his bedroom door, ignoring the irritating beings still bickering behind him.

"I never get any peace." He muttered to himself, making his way down the hallway.

He sometimes found himself with the urge to tell the both of them to get lost, but he knew he’d never do it really, especially not to Gavin, Gavin was Ray’s best friend.

Gavin David Free, born in Oxford, England, he had died May 22nd, 1998, one day before his fourteenth birthday. The official cause of his death down on paper was self-inflicted poisoning, a suicide, but really his abusive step mother had forced rat poison down his throat as a twisted form of punishment, having gone a little too far and accidentally killed him in the process.

Geoffrey Fink’s past on the other hand, was a complete mystery to Ray, other than he was from Alabama, died from a heroin overdose, and was, prior to his death, engaged to Ray’s woodwork teacher, Griffon Ramsey.

Ray stumbled over a new pile of junk in the hall and sighed, closing his eyes so he could imagine, if only for a few moments, the rest of his home wasn’t a complete bombsite. Upon opening his eyes, Ray was met with the reality, however.

Trash and books lined the corridor and sat on each step of his stairs, newspapers tied with wiry strings in piles, boxes upon boxes of old clothes and ornaments, the strong smell of must settled in the air. Every curtain was shut, faded light coming through tears in the fabric, bitten away by mites and wear.

Dust ridden, rotten baby clothes hung from the banister and the familiar smell of dust and decay filled Ray’s lungs as he descended the stairs. The brunette wrinkled his nose, sometimes Ray just wished he could throw it all away, but he knew his mother would lose herself completely if she was without her things.

Ray maneuvered expertly through high towering piles of garbage, clothes and other ‘precious memories’. He slipped past the particularly large pile of boxes his mother insisted on sitting just in front of the kitchen doorway, the linoleum a little sticky under his feet.

He reached the fridge, opening the door tentatively before immediately slamming it shut to block out the stench.

He had been correct, they were definitely due a payment on the electricity meter. He sighed again, annoyed with himself for forgetting to put the money on.

He decided to leave the rotting food where it was and scraped together a breakfast of dry cereal, putting his head in the sink for a mouthful of tap water. His hungry somewhat sated, Ray began made his way back through the mountains of junk to the stairs.

Gavin was sat at the bottom step, creaking the wood under him lightly as he fidgeted. “I think I’m gonna stay home today.”

Ray didn’t mind too much, preferring it, in a small way, when Gavin wasn’t there to distract him with his silly antics, even if it was lonely without him. “Alright.” He replied, “Just don’t start any shit with Geoff whilst I’m gone, last time I-”

“Bruno?” a voice interrupted Ray from the top of the stairs. Ray looked up, his mother hunched over the bannister, clutching her well-used dressing gown, “Who are you talking to, Bruno?”

“No one, Mom! Just myself!” Ray automatically called back, not bothering to correct his mother.

Gavin dissipated through him to go through into the living room, Ray shivering slightly as she did.

The woman smiled fondly at her son, sullen eyes genuine with affection, black hair flared around her face and odd slippers adorning her feet. “Okay, dear. Just remember to feed the cat before you go to work, okay?”

“Sure thing, Mom. I’ll feed her.” Ray smiled back, climbing the stairs slowly, his gaze upward.

“Good good- And another thing! I…” Ray’s mother trailed off, eyes lost for moment, “I… Oh. It seems I’ve forgotten…” Her eyebrows creased together.

“That’s okay. Just go back to bed. I’m sure you’ll remember.” He reached the top of the stairs, beginning to guide her gently in the right direction.

“Yes, bed. That sounds good, I’m pretty tired, I think.” she nodded, patting Ray’s cheek affectionately, “I love you, Bruno.”

“Love you, too, Mom,” Ray told her, touching the hand on his cheek.

The woman slipped the touch away, using both hands to pull her dressing gown a little tighter, wandering back to where she came. A smile still playing on her chapped lips, murmuring idly to herself.

Ray watched her go before going back to the sanctuary of his bedroom, pulling off his pyjama top when he found it empty. He pulled on an un-ironed t-shirt from his wardrobe, the fabric marked with some video game catchphrase. He followed with well-worn jeans and a baggy hoodie, the strings of the jacket furiously chewed as an attempt to keep his nerves at bay. He couldn’t find a matching pair of socks, settling for two shades of blue.

Grabbing his school bag, Ray checked the time on his phone, he had just enough time to put on some money on the meter before he’d have to set off to the bus stop. Wouldn’t wanna miss the ride to the epitome of his life.

Ha. Damn, he sure was a funny guy.

He left his bedroom and quickly checked on his mother one last time to give her a granola bar and a glass of water. She was sat crossed legged on her bed, sorting through old photo albums, raven hair puffed up like a murky halo in the morning light pouring through the crack of her curtains. Ray smiled, nothing but gentle, “I’ll see you later.”

“Yes, bye, bye. Bye, I love you.”

Downstairs, Ray pulled on his favourite sneakers, ignoring the holes in the soles. He’d be fine as long as it didn’t rain. Stepping outside, he dropped five dollars into the electricity meter, doing the same to the gas just so that they had enough for hot water. He fiddled with the key, trying to shut the case.

“Hurry up.”

Ray yelped in surprise, dropping his key, the metal glinting as it hit the floor. “Geoff! What the fuck, dude?”

Geoff winced at being yelled at, licking his blue lips nervously, rubbing at the clammy skin of his face with an inked hand. “I’m sorry, I just, I haven't seen Griffon all weekend, I- I need to see her, dude.”

“Sure, whatever. You just have to stop creeping up on me in public like that!” Ray hissed, “What if someone saw? In fact, stop creeping up on me full stop!”

“Calm down, Jesus. Sorry…” Geoff muttered as he looked away, swaying slightly as he stood, dwarfing the other with his size.

Ray picked up the key, locked the case and shoved it in his bag, pulling up his hoodie as he set off down the street, murmuring to the older as he looked forward, “I don’t get you, man. Why can’t you just let her go? She’s obviously happy without you, you can _leave._ ”

Geoff walked at Ray’s pace easily, swallowing uneasily as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“And why not?” Ray kept his head down as he passed a group of kids his age, sputtering quietly at the cigarette smoke that wafted into his face.

“Cause you’re a dumb ass kid.” The man told him, letting the gang of teens walk through him, the smoke evaporating through him, “Damn, I miss a smoke.”

Ray rolled his eyes, “A dumb ass kid that is trying to help you.”

“How the hell are you supposed to help? You don’t even know what love is.”

“Sure I do.”

“A stupid crush on an older year is not love, dipshit.”

“It could be.”

Geoff groaned, “This is fucking pointless. You’re such a girl.”

Ray went completely silent as the pair reached the bus stop, students from his school already milling around and talking to each other. No one greeted Ray on his arrival, and Ray stayed on the outskirts of the gathering.

He stood awkwardly, hands delved deep into his hoodie pockets, eyes on the ground.

The boy knew people talked behind his back, and honestly he would too if he was in their shoes. He was just some nerdy latino kid who was as often labelled as schizophrenic by students as he was by teachers, and it wasn’t like his mother’s predicament helped settle the rumours. 

Yeah, Ray understood why people avoided him.

“Hey!” A female voice caused the teen glance up, the girl giving a bright smile and a wave for someone behind him.

That was Kara, head of the drama club and, unfortunately for Ray, Joel Heyman’s childhood sweetheart. Joel brushed by, and Ray allowed himself just long enough to admire Joel’s chiselled cheeks and chocolate eyes, watching him greet his girlfriend with a chaste kiss to her lips and a hug.

“I missed you. How was your trip?” Kara let her arms linger around Joel’s neck for a few more moments, going back down onto the flats of her feet.

“Great, we saw lots of stuff! It’s a shame that- that your mom wouldn’t let you come.” Joel replied, pushing a little hair behind her ear.

Ray’s chest ached at their affection, their voices merging into everyone else’s as conversation picked back up. Ray let his eyes travel back to the concrete.

“Fucking. Girl.” Geoff repeated at Ray’s puppy sick look, leaning against the bus shelter.

“Fuck you.” Ray snarked back a little too loudly, receiving the one thing that was worse than avoidance; attention.

“What the fuck you just say to me, spic?” The older teen was up in Ray’s face before he had the chance to take another breath, all broad shoulders and clenched teeth.

Preps Ray could deal with, but he just had to go and push the buttons of a more aggressive sort of bully. Fuck his life.

“ _What the fuck did you just say to me_?” The question was repeated, the boy so close to Ray’s face he felt spittle hit his cheeks.

All he could do was shake his head quickly, not wanting to meet the other’s hate filled eyes.

Ray’s face was grabbed and he was forced to look up, anxiety blossoming in his chest as he tried to form words. Nausea swirled in his gut at the confrontation, cheeks heating up at being circled out.

Why couldn’t today be the weekend?

 _Nothing,_ Ray thought, _just say the word you fucking idiot. ‘Nothing, I’m sorry.’_

Before Ray had the chance to open his mouth, his ass was on the concentrate. He brought up a hand defensively to protect his face. Words still wouldn’t come from his mouth.

“Hey, hey! Leave the kid alone!”

Great, Joel Heyman himself stepped out in front of Ray, attempting to protect him from any violence the aggressor planned to use. The burn on Ray’s cheeks spreading like wildfire to his ears and neck.

“Back down, Heyman. He disrespected me.”

If Ray wasn’t so frozen in terror, he would have rolled his eyes.

Joel defended him again, “C’mon, give him a break, you know- you know that he’s crazy. He probably wasn’t even talking to you.”

Ray cringed in humiliation, tears burning behind his eyes, having a hard time catching his breath.

“This has nothing to fucking do with you!”

“Look, you- you just need to take a couple, deep breaths.” Joel took a step.

He was shoved, and Joel stumbled backwards into the road, raising an eyebrow in mild surprise, raising both hands defensively. His lips were curled into a confident smile, calm, having expected some form of attack as the teen got his anger out.

What Joel hadn’t expected was the car hurtling towards him at fifty miles an hour; killing him instantly upon impact.

His lifeless body flew, broken corpse skidding across the road, face down against the tarmac. Joel’s girlfriend was the first to scream, Kara sprinting out into the road, traffic slamming to a halt all around them with screeches of their own.

“Well…” Geoff’s voice, silent to all ears but Ray’s, spoke aloud as the group of teens went into hysteria, crouching down next to his small companion, body twitching lightly, “That was interesting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to get something that isn't a rewrite or a prolouge out in the next month or so, lmao.

**Author's Note:**

> screamingpies.tumblr.com


End file.
